


Christmas At Baker Street

by TheLadyOfManyFandoms



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 05:34:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2839877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLadyOfManyFandoms/pseuds/TheLadyOfManyFandoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock doesn't appreciate the festive season like you do, and so this Christmas will either be the best or a complete nightmare...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Christmas Eve

**Author's Note:**

> Here's something to kick off the two-parter! Leave a comment (or possibly some kudos) just for the fun of it and I'll reply ^.^
> 
> Stay safe during this glittering season <3

Sherlock didn’t fully understand the joy you felt for Christmas. You had forced him to wear a red and white striped scarf rather than his favourite blue one. Not only that but you got him to put up the Christmas tree in the living room. They were going to host a Christmas dinner in two nights with Mrs Hudson, Mary, John, Lestrade, Molly, Anderson, and Mycroft – if the latter chose to show. With the tree up, Mrs Hudson had brought up a box of decorations and lights,

“Here you are dear.” She chirped. You smiled and took the box while Sherlock sat on his chair reading a newspaper, case hunting. Your landlady disappeared through the door and you sat on the floor with the box. You began to empty its contents and throw them in categories on the ground, amazingly, the tinsel found itself on Sherlock’s lap. Baubles, tree lights, a bright star and little bits-and-bobs covered the ground. 

“It’s our first Christmas where we haven’t had a case to interrupt it.” You smiled and looked back at Sherlock, who was still reading. 

“The fact that you act like this each year at the same time does not make it any different, nor any more special.” Sherlock stated. You rolled your eyes and pulled the tinsel from him,

“Right, I forgot, you’re still acting like a robot.” You said with sarcasm as turned back to the floor. 

“Distancing myself from emotions does not associate me to a robot.” Sherlock told you, “Robots are incapable of feeling.” 

“I’m not seeing the difference.” You muttered bitterly. Sherlock sighed and put the newspaper down to look at you,

“(Y/n), this event is tedious, a pathetic excuse to show affection for people that you don’t even care about. There is nothing special about Christmas and I do not find it mildly amusing to gather around a – quite frankly – dead tree.” Sherlock stated. You frowned and pulled apart the coloured tinsel. 

Why did Sherlock have to be so difficult at this time of year? He knew what Christmas meant to you and yet still he acted heartless. You bit your lip and held back the tears that were pooling in your eyes. _It’s a good thing I’ve got my back to him_ , you thought to yourself. Honestly, even if you cried in front of him you doubted it would make a difference. Sherlock waited for you to retort back but you sat unusually quiet for a good few minutes. 

“Since you’re not going to be of any help can you leave me alone?” You finally said, avoiding the frustrating detective. Sherlock stood up and walked across to the kitchen,

“Fine.” He said plainly and shut the connector-doors. You leaned back and suddenly started to cry quietly. You only had a minute or two to yourself until Mrs Hudson returned with some warm cookies and milk,

“Yoo-hoo! I brought you some – oh dear, what’s wrong?” she wondered as she noticed you on the floor. You wiped away the tears but they only returned to stick on your face,

“Nothing.” you lied terribly. Mrs Hudson walked over and took a seat on Sherlock’s armchair,

“Was it Sherlock?” she wondered. _Of course it was Sherlock!_ You wanted to yell. Who else could ruin your mood before a special event? You didn’t want to sound like a whining child to your landlady but, even you, who were so flooded with emotion, couldn’t help yourself.

“He’s so infuriating!” You told your landlady while wringing tinsel in your hands. Mrs Hudson gently patted your head and let you talk out your emotion,

“Is it really so hard for him to try and show compassion at least once in his life? When John’s life is put in danger, Sherlock springs into action but when I’m kidnapped and tortured he avoids me like a plague.” You added. 

“Hush yourself dear, you’ll make yourself ill. If it makes you any better then I’ll tell you that Sherlock was in a right panic when you were kidnapped. He couldn’t sleep, stopped composing and was in a terrible way trying to find you. Now if that doesn’t show compassion, I don’t know what will.” Mrs Hudson said gently. You were glowing with anger now,

“I don’t care what he went through trying to find me. If I knew that he was going to act like this, then I would have stayed there and let Moriarty kill me.” You snapped. Mrs Hudson sighed and slowly stood up. This was not going to be an easy fix for her so she left it alone for you and Sherlock to deal with in time.

“I’ll be downstairs if you need me, dear.” Mrs Hudson said and closed the door. You picked up a beautifully hand-crafted bauble from the ground and sighed at it. Barely thinking, you tossed it aside and looked away. 

It was late in the night and you had fallen asleep by the, barely decorated, Christmas tree. Sherlock had eavesdropped on the conversation that took place between yourself and Mrs Hudson from the kitchen and never before had he felt such guilt. The emotion was so strange to him and he wanted to call John but Sherlock knew that if he told him of the events before the call, John would be beyond furious. This was something that he would have to handle with no help. 

He walked out into the living room to apologise to you but he found you sprawled on the ground with his coat being used as a blanket. No doubt Mrs Hudson had returned at some point and placed it on your shoulders. Your hand lay across the floor and Sherlock could see the scars of where shackles once kept you in place. Sherlock heaved a sigh and stooped down to you. 

He scooped you up – coat and all – and carried you back to his room. Sherlock placed you gently on his bed and replaced his coat with a warm blanket. Unbeknown to the kind gesture, you snuggled against the soft fabric and rested peacefully. Sherlock walked out of the room and closed the door behind him. 

The task of decorating was now put upon him if he chose to apologise for his ignorance. You put up with all of his rudeness and Sherlock crossed the line just before Christmas. He walked to the kitchen and looked at the table which was cluttered with scientific equipment. His gaze was then drawn to the Christmas tree in the living room; empty and dull looking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tomorrow, expect the second chapter!


	2. Merry Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here it is!

You found yourself to wake up in a bed. Not just any bed, but Sherlock’s bed. 

You looked around the room and saw that it was empty. The only light that shone through was from the small opening in the doorway. You were still infuriated with the consulting detective. 

Who did he think he was to always mess with your emotions? 

Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, you pulled the blankets off your knees and walked over to the door. You opened it slowly to avoid the creaking noise and walked into the warmly heated hallway. There was a cluttering that came from the kitchen and you assumed that it was Sherlock working away on another experiment, which would leave only you to tear down the beautifully adorned Christmas tree. 

Wait – _beautifully adorned_ Christmas tree? 

The last time you had laid eyes on the tree, it was empty and unfit for the holiday spirit, so the question remained as to how it decorated itself. 

“(Y/n)? When did you wake? I didn’t hear you.” Sherlock’s voice resonated from the kitchen behind her. You hadn’t even noticed he was there. You had completely ignored the contents of the kitchen and walked straight to the living room with your eyes fixed on the glowing tree.

“A few moments ago. The door was open,” you answered him and pointed to the tree while turning to face Sherlock,

“Sherlock, how did that--” you began to question until you were put into further confusion. Sherlock was holding a teapot in his hands and slowly set it down on a tray in the middle of the table – from which, his usually scattered experiment equipment, was absent. 

“I must have left the door open when I came in earlier.” Sherlock said out loud to himself, completely dismissing your look of bewilderment, “Breakfast?” he offered. You moved your pointed finger from the tree to the teapot,

“What are you doing?” you asked. Sherlock squinted at you,

“Making breakfast. Didn’t I say?” he wondered and then sighed when he looked down at the tray, “Now, I wasn’t too sure if you’d take tea or orange juice. Usually, you prefer tea on winter mornings and orange juice in the summer. Since it is snowing outside, I am inclined to pick tea but, given that it is Christmas, I would be correct in thinking that you would want something 4% sweeter.” He said all at once. You stared at him, mouth half open and Sherlock looked up when there was no answer,

“What?” he wondered with a slight gleam of worry in his blue eyes. You closed your mouth and tried to compose yourself,

“Why?” you asked simply. Sherlock pouted his lips and squinted again ever so gently,

“I just told you that I didn’t know which one you wanted.” He replied. You shook your head and circled your finger around the breakfast tray,

“No, why did you make breakfast? You never make breakfast.” 

Sherlock relaxed his shoulders and gave a gentle sigh – almost as if he was preparing for a speech.

“I’m sorry for being oblivious yesterday. It was very rude of me to say what I did and, if you were in your right mind at that moment, you probably would have kicked me out.” he explained and gestured to the tray in front of him, “I hoped that making breakfast would be my peace offering to you.” 

You folded your arms and watched Sherlock curiously. You almost understood why Lestrade couldn’t figure him out after 5 years. Yesterday he was his usual, cold detective self and today he was like a child seeking redemption. 

One minute emotionless and the next so heart-warming. 

“(Y/n)?” Sherlock wondered. You didn’t realise that you had been daydreaming with a small smile on your lips or that Sherlock was watching your reaction carefully. Blinking at him slowly, you remembered the tree that glistened behind,

“The tree…?” you muttered and Sherlock clapped his hands,

“Tree! Yes, now this was worse than any case I’ve had to endure.” He said and walked over to you, pulling you gently with him to the middle of the living room. The fireplace was blazing with festive stocking hanging on the mantelpiece and the edges of the walls were draped in red and green tinsel. You marvelled at how the place looked, quite astonished that Sherlock could pull off such a feat. 

“When I started, I calculated at least 452 possible colour combinations but then I realised that the assortment of decorations was potentially infinite.” Sherlock told you, while you quietly admired his effort of deducing Christmas decorations.

“Eventually I was reduced to ‘creating’ a pattern that was appealing to the eye. God that was tedious.” He rambled and noticed that you had not said one word,

“You haven’t said if you liked it.” Sherlock said innocently. You nodded at him,

“I like it Sherlock. It’s exceptional but I’m still trying to comprehend why you did it.” you answered. Sherlock sighed with a tinge of annoyance,

“I already told you why.” He said and you frowned at him,

“No, you didn’t. We’re not in your mind palace.” You told him.

“(Y/n), I am not the robot I make myself out to be. I’m human and I feel varying degrees of emotion.” Sherlock confessed and took a step closer to you, “How can I when you keep me human?” he asked.

“What?” You managed to whisper as a faint blush crept over your cheeks. 

“I know that this Christmas is special to you. It’s the first one where you aren’t locked in a room wondering if I’ll find you.” He told you, “But it will always serve as a reminder of the time I almost failed you. Your kidnapping is the one case that haunts me. I know that what I say doesn’t excuse my behaviour towards you but I can only hope that it will help you understand.” 

You stared at the consulting detective with a curious smile in complete silence. Sherlock tried to deduce your thoughts but all he found was an unreadable mystery. The quiet moment between the two of you lasted until Mrs Hudson knocked on the door and let herself in,

“Yoo-hoo!” she greeted, “I see you two have made up.” she stated as she caught you and Sherlock staring at each other curiously. The woman had brought up a small package and left it on Sherlock’s armchair. Mrs Hudson turned to the kitchen and gasped in surprise,

“Who made breakfast?” she asked and you beamed at your landlady,

“Sherlock.” You answered and Mrs Hudson chuckled,

“Oh, you really are changing him for the better, sort of like John. First he’ll make breakfast and the next Sherlock will be doing the laundry.” She teased. 

“I’m a high-functioning sociopath. I don’t do laundry.” Sherlock scoffed. Mrs Hudson didn’t appear to have heard him and waved you both farewell before closing the door again. 

“Speaking of breakfast, I’m famished.” You admitted.

“I know.” Sherlock replied and you pretended to be utterly surprised,

“How?” you asked dramatically, “Was it my pupils? Did I flutter my eyelashes more than usual? Is there a subtle rosiness in my cheeks that I never noticed?” you mocked. 

“Actually, I can hear your stomach grumbling.” Sherlock smirked. You chuckled and looked at the little box on the armchair. Sherlock watched you pick it up and carefully unwrap the paper to reveal the contents of the beige-coloured box.

Mistletoe.

Your landlady had gifted you and Sherlock mistletoe. You smirked at the plant and Sherlock stepped closer over to you,

“I believe there is a tradition to maintain.” He said.

“Well, only if it’s hanging above two people.” You chuckled, completely oblivious to what he meant. You moved to put the box away but Sherlock held your hands gently to keep you facing him,

“Then we’ll make our own tradition.” He said softly and leaned forward. 

His lips met yours and set a fire in the pit of your stomach. The kiss was gentle and loving, a feeling that Sherlock always denied. 

A feeling that was reserved only for you.

**MERRY CHRISTMAS!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish you all a MERRY CHRISTMAS! I hope that you were all fortunate to receive a gift under your trees ^.^  
> Keep safe and be wonderful everyone!


End file.
